


Lover Boy

by Fafsernir



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Armageddidn't, Crowley being Soft, Fluff, M/M, Sunsets, Surprise Date, Wings, hand holding, naah-pocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 07:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/pseuds/Fafsernir
Summary: They can finally breathe, after the non-existent Armageddon, and Crowley shows one of Earth's beautiful natural treasure to Aziraphale.





	Lover Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored in a car, saw a beautiful sunset, and this kind of occupied the rest of my car ride. Enjoy ;)

Crowley nervously tapped the Bentley's steering wheel as he drove at an extremely reasonably speed – only a few miles over the limit, really. Beethoven's _Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy_ was blasting through the non-existent speakers of the car. He didn't know if it helped more so than it didn't, but it relaxed him a bit. Only to tense again when he paid attention to the lyrics. If he could, he would kindly ask the Bentley to “change the freaking music, not with angel right here!” But he couldn't. Precisely because of angel, right here.

“Crowley, where are you taking me?”

They had been driving along the sea for a while, now, but Aziraphale didn't seem to be even considering it as their destination. Good, Crowley thought, more surprise for him.

“Didn't know you were that impatient,” Crowley's only answer was, punctuated by a smug smile.

“I like to know where I'm going...” Aziraphale muttered good naturedly.

Crowley drove for a few more minutes and finally stopped. Before Aziraphale could gather himself, Crowley had gracelessly run to his door to open it.

“After you.”

Aziraphale smiled but didn't quite meet his eye. He flattened his clothes as Crowley was already taking a basket from the rear seat. It looked a lot like the basket that had once carried the Antichrist. The basket that had started it all – although, admittedly, its role had been very minor in the events. It certainly had played no part in ending it all, too. It wasn't even the same basket that Crowley was holding.

When the Armageddon... hadn't happened, and they had dangerously ventured in Hell for one and Heaven for the other, Crowley and Aziraphale had drifted back into a routine. They had spent years doing nothing much more than raising a kid, however, and they weren't even sure of what to do. So, they had fallen back into old patterns, performing miracles here and there. Except that everything wasn't the same.

Crowley, for example, felt different. Not fundamentally different, but a bit. Being in Aziraphale's bookshop during the fire had opened his eyes. Well, his eyes had already been opened on the obvious truth of his feelings for Aziraphale. But the bookshop had been a second home for him, maybe even a first one, because unlike his own flat, it often came with Aziraphale inside. Unless one considered Aziraphale to be his first home – and one would be right to do so – then the bookshop really was his second home. And it had felt truly horrifying to watch it burn down, to watch all the long years of Aziraphale proudly collecting first editions and old books go to dust. Crowley wasn't much of a reader, but he cared about Aziraphale's books as much as he cared about Aziraphale's bow tie – never would he admit to that, though. It was part of Aziraphale. Crowley had watched part of Aziraphale burn down, and maybe a part of him had burnt down too, in that bookshop. The fact that Aziraphale had been nowhere to see had made it all the worse, of course. Crowley tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about the utter despair and feeling of dying he had felt. He was a demon; he knew a thing of two about torture. This had been some deranged level of torture. Crowley had broken down a bit, that day. A part of him had died along Aziraphale – when he still had thought that Aziraphale was gone. It had made him realise just how important Aziraphale was to him. You couldn't just move on from a six-thousand-year friendship/partnership like it had never occurred.

And Crowley didn't want to be friends or business partners anymore. He at least had to tell Aziraphale that he was still here. That if he wanted, he could slow down, or do something, anything, so they would go at the same speed. That was why, after everything had calmed down a bit, Crowley had decided to surprise Aziraphale.

“Come on,” he said as he sauntered towards the spot he had been searching for. 6000 years, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve – and those were better than Aziraphale's poor attempt at human magic.

Aziraphale followed suit. He didn't like surprises, if Crowley were to believe him, but he was curious, at heart. Maybe it was what had drawn Crowley even more to him. Crowley had always been curious, he had been inquiring and doubting, even. Falling hadn't altered his curiosity. It had just made it a painful concept for him for a while. Now was not a time to think about the Fall.

Crowley turned as he slithered his way through the rocks, and had to stop on his track. The poor Angel was struggling a bit more than him, sticking his tongue out as he meticulously walked, trying not to fall. If Crowley were physically more human, he would probably have blushed. He didn't, but very much wanted to spread his wings, only to hide behind them – which was a fundamentally human thing, to get flustered only by looking at the being you cared for more than anything or anyone else.

Aziraphale almost fell, and suddenly Crowley was at his side, offering his elbow. Aziraphale drew in a breath, even though he didn't need to even breathe, and whispered a thank you.

Crowley helped him walk to the end of the rock path, a few feet into the sea. Aziraphale had been so focused on where he stepped that he hadn't once looked up, except to glance at Crowley. When he finally did, Crowley felt his too-human heart melt in his chest. He suddenly didn't want to even look at the landscape. Nothing could surpass Aziraphale's face. It was a landscape of its own, with his eyes like two clear lakes under a forest of snowy, fluffily trees. With his soft cheeks like warm sand dunes and his smile like the sun shining in a pleasant summer afternoon...

“It's beautiful, Crowley...”

“You're beautiful, angel,” Crowley automatically answered before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale definitely would have blushed if they could. “Thank you, my dear,” he eventually answered after a bit of struggle to get a coherent sound out of his mouth. “You're quite the sight, too.”

It was enough for Crowley to turn his head and pretend this conversation hadn't happened, because no mortal or immortal heart could take that, he was sure.

He took a second to appreciate the actual landscape. The sun was slowly lowering on the horizon, colouring the almost still sea. The rocks they were standing on stretched a bit into the sea, and it felt like they were floating on water. Perfect, yes. Breath-taking, yes. He still loved Aziraphale's face more.

Crowley eventually took the content of his basket out, laying a surprisingly thick blanket for them to sit on, and producing a few snacks he knew Aziraphale enjoyed. And wine, because it wouldn’t be a nice evening with Aziraphale if there wasn’t a bit of wine involved – it wasn’t true, any second with Aziraphale was nice, but wine was always a nice addition.

They weren’t drunk as they watched the sun set. Quite the opposite. They didn’t want to be drunk for this. Crowley wanted them to take it fully in.

He looked at Aziraphale, sitting by his side, both of them directed towards the sun, and he smiled. He genuinely and whole-heartedly smiled, and Aziraphale caught him doing so, but Crowley didn’t care. He was happy.

“Nobody’s around,” Crowley said after a while.

Aziraphale frowned, not quite understanding what he was suggesting. Crowley had glanced at him, when he had stopped time, before Satan’s arrival. He had caught a glimpse of Aziraphale’s shoulders warming to the feeling of his wings spreading. He had felt it, too. The relief of letting his wings free. They were still there. He may have fallen, but he still took great care of his wings, and he didn’t want them gone. Aziraphale probably rarely indulged in freeing his wings. It was Crowley’s job to gently tug him towards temptation, though, and he always loved to do so.

He didn’t say anything, letting his own wings spread free instead. The very light breeze felt incredibly good against his dark feathers. He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly. He rarely breathed and spread his wings at the same time. Neither were vital for him, but he loved doing both. He felt alive.

He turned to Aziraphale again when he felt a hand brushing his feathers. Aziraphale was very slowly running his hands on his feathers, through his feathers, and Crowley shuddered.

“It makes me think of Heaven and Hell,” Crowley said, pointing at the colours of the sky. It was deeply red where the sun finally met the sea, and gradually lightened to a beautiful evening blue, the more you looked up. “As if, at the end of the day, they inevitably met.”

“It’s beautiful,” Aziraphale said again, his hand still grazing Crowley’s feathers.

“It makes me think of us,” Crowley admitted in a breath. “It’s… colourful, and beautiful, and a bit of Hell and Heaven, but with such Earthly colours and such a natural beauty. A human beauty. It’s… singular. It’s what comes to my mind, when I think about us. About our own side.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale when he heard – and felt – the white wings spreading, brushing against Crowley’s own wings. Black and white clashing together, but marrying so well, fitting so well. Together. On their own side. Crowley still couldn’t believe Aziraphale was with him on that crazy ride, but then again, it had been building for thousands of years, hadn’t it? There had always been Hell, and Heaven, and them stuck on Earth, stuck in a place they had quickly grown to love and care for, and in doing so, they had gradually grown to love and care for each other. Because no matter what happened or for how long they parted, at the end of the day, they knew the other would still be here. They knew the only person that could understand them was the other. No one else had been staying on Earth for this long, had tasted the Earth’s pleasures and seen its beauties. Only them.

Crowley stared a bit longer at Aziraphale, watching his wings move, his face relax in a pleasing smile, his shoulders roll with the familiar feeling of his wings, his chest rising as he breathed in and out with that precious body, his eyes wondering at the beautiful sight before him, his body comfortably seated on Crowley’s blanket, his hands, previously carefully folded on his laps, and now resting innocently on the blanket. Crowley stared longer at the latter.

It was the hand that he had almost reached for at the Ritz, right after they had come back from Hell and Heaven. Instead, he had stared lovingly at his angel. Which he was doing now, too, except that the urge to take his hand felt stronger than ever before. He had been so scared and broken when he had thought he had lost him, that letting temptation overcome him felt fine. It wouldn’t be the first time Aziraphale had pushed him to temptation too, anyway.

He reached out with his own hand, covering Aziraphale’s on the blanket. The angel barely moved, as if he had been expecting it all along – and he probably had – but a smile tugged his lips.

Crowley shook his head, chuckling, and silently watched the sun finishing its daily course in this part of the world. It disappeared, the colours still echoing for a while after its departure.

Crowley looked one last time behind him, admiring their reflection in the water around them, while the daylight was still reflecting their silhouettes. Their wings moved slightly while they sat motionless. He almost couldn’t tell whose wings he was looking at, as they intertwined as their fingers were doing, on the blanket.

And Crowley knew for sure that that was it. His home. And he wouldn’t let go, he would never have to let go. Aziraphale would always be here, be there to make everything feel a thousand times better. It felt great, to be in love with your best friend.


End file.
